


Mark Me

by ddelusionall



Category: JYJ (Band), NewS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, College, M/M, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: The year is 1898. Yoochun is sent to America for school and he meets a mysterious student.--This is a prequel of sorts to the story Rising Creatures Of the East. This story happens about 110 yrs before the events of Rising Creatures. You do not need to read Rising Creatures to understand this.
Relationships: Park Yoochun/Yamashita Tomohisa
Kudos: 1





	Mark Me

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](https://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

Yoochun splashed water on his face. He never did like such exercise. Even running a few laps with the rest of the medical students was enough to put him in a horrible mood. Add to that, that most of them ridiculed his small frame and lack of stamina, and he down right dreaded the regulations of the school that required him to be an active participant in what Americans called sport.

He dried his face with a paper towel. He jerked in surprise when he opened his eyes and saw he was no longer alone in the changing room.

A man leaned against the wall behind him, a small smile on his face. He was devastatingly handsome, and Asian. Yoochun knew he wasn’t the only Asian there, but to see another was quite a shock.

“Konnichiwa,” the other said.

Yoochun’s eyes narrowed. In English, he said, “I am not Japanese. I am Korean.”

“Well, annyeonghaseyo, then.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“What are you doing here at the grand institution that is Harvard?” he asked.

“Medicine.”

The other smiled. “Me, too. In a sense.”

“In what sense?”

“Biology, anatomy. I may learn something. I don’t care much if I don’t.”

Yoochun scoffed. He dismissed the man as nothing more than a rich man’s son, one that would not do well, but graduate anyway because of his father. Yoochun thought back to his own aristocratic parents in Korea. They had seemed more than eager to send their second son off to some unknown world for the promise of an education and a few extra favors from the king.

“I see you sometimes, Yoochun, up on the roof, staring at nothing. Are those mathematical formulas going through your mind?”

Yoochun’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”

He smiled. “I did my research, looked up your records. And I’ve been following you.”

“Stalking me?”

The smile widened and the man stuck his tongue against a sharp canine. “Good choice of words. Stalking you, like prey.”

A spark of fear shot through Yoochun and the other must have seen it because he laughed. “Oh, come on, Yoochun. I’m not going to hurt you. I just … well, figured we could be friends or something, even if you are Korean. There aren’t a lot of Asians at this school.”

“What’s your name?”

“Yamapi.”

Yoochun scoffed again.

“Yes, so it’s a nickname, but I like it. My real name is Yamashita Tomohisa. Yamapi is easier.”

“Well, then. Yamapi. It was nice to meet you. I guess I’ll see you around campus.”

Yoochun moved by him.

“Wait a moment. That’s it?”

Yoochun turned to face him. “What do you mean, that’s it? You have thoroughly made me cautious, and I don’t trust you at all. What more do you want?”

“Meet me tomorrow, please. For coffee.”

Yoochun sighed. “Fine. At the food hall. I will be there at seven.”

“Great.”

v-v

Three weeks later, with his head in Yamapi’s lap, Yoochun wondered about this thing called Providence that some Americans talked about. Fate. A lack of control of who you meet and who you end up being friends with.

Yoochun doubted someone named God decided these things. And yet, fortuitousness seemed to follow him since he met Yamapi.

Tonight was the eighth time they’d met on the roof to look at the stars.

“What are you thinking of, Yoochun?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. You irritate me.”

Yamapi laughed.

Silence fell, and then Yamapi said, “I wonder if we will be alive long enough to see the stars change.”

“What do you mean?”

“Scientific theory says that the stars were in different places five hundred years ago.”

“And you think you will live to be five hundred years old?”

Yamapi looked down and met his eyes. It was a deep look, one that sent shivers up Yoochun’s spine. Yamapi said nothing. Yoochun looked away.

“What would you do if you were alive for five hundred years?” he suddenly whispered.

Yoochun sighed, but did not respond.

“I’m serious,” Yamapi said.

“Why should I answer that? I won’t be alive for five hundred years. I will be lucky if I live beyond fifty.”

“So? Answer me.”

“What would you do?”

“This,” Yamapi said, staring up. “What else can you do? I mean, after only two hundred years, you’d have the time to learn about science. Have enough knowledge to earn six or seven or eight degrees in four different countries. Learn to paint and sing and play the piano, and the timpani. Little obscure talents, things that you ponder and say ‘if only I had time, I’d learn to do that’. Like juggling, or making candles. And then, suddenly, you have run out of things to learn, and so you do this. Sit on a roof and stare at the stars with a handsome man’s head in your lap.”

Yoochun sat up, staring at him. “You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Too much.”

“It’s late. I have an exam in the morning.”

Yamapi grinned. “Five hundred years of exams. Can you imagine?”

Yoochun shuddered. “No thanks.”

As he moved to get up, Yamapi put his hand on Yoochun’s arm. “You didn’t answer me. What would you do with five hundred years?”

Yoochun smiled. “Learn music. All of it. Write masterpieces and little ditties that would get stuck in your head for days on end.”

“That sounds nice.”

When Yamapi leaned forward and kissed him, Yoochun knew he should have pulled away. It was not proper for two men to kiss as Yamapi was kissing him now, but in five hundred years, Yoochun decided that would not matter, and with Yamapi, nothing seemed to matter but what happened between the two of them.

“See you tomorrow,” Yamapi whispered.

Yoochun nodded, and stood. Mind still cloudy from the kiss. It shouldn’t have happened, but it had, and what did that mean? By the time he reached his room, he was anxious. He didn’t sleep, thoughts plagued with Yamapi’s smile and warm lips. He paced, thinking of nothing but the other man, his breath short.

He failed his exam, unable to concentrate on the answers.

And he stayed away from the roof.

v-v

It worked for three days. On the fourth, Yamapi cornered him in the locker room again.

“Hi, Yoochun.”

Yoochun swallowed and managed to say hello.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Yoochun continued changing.

“Is it because of the kiss?”

He flicked a panicked gaze around the locker room.

“We’re alone,” Yamapi said. “Answer me.”

“If it was?”

“Then I will apologize and promise to not do it again.”

“Then it wasn’t.”

Yamapi cocked his head and pondered him. “Then what?”

“More the conversation.”

“Talking of the next five hundred years disturbed you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Yoochun sighed.

“Tell me. We’re friends.”

“The freedom you described … it …”

“It’s not fair?” Yamapi said with a smirk.

“Yes. No. It’s alluring. It would be nice.”

Yamapi walked up to him and stilled Yoochun’s hands from buttoning up his shirt. “Since it wasn’t the kiss, can I kiss you again?”

Yoochun swallowed. It felt different here. The moment. On the roof, nothing was taboo. Indoors, lights, where someone might see. But Yoochun nodded, because the memory of the warmth of Yamapi’s lips was fading.

Yamapi smiled. With fingers on Yoochun’s chin, he tilted his head and pressed his lips against Yoochun’s. Yoochun whimpered, a small noise that caught him off guard and he immediately stifled it. Yamapi’s other hand settled on his waist. The kiss was gentle, managed.

 _Does he think I am a colt needing to be tamed?_ Yoochun thought as irritation raced through him. He put one arm around Yamapi’s waist, the other on the back of his neck.

Yamapi groaned. At the first touch of tongue on his lips, Yoochun opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. Yamapi’s hands quickly unbuttoned Yoochun’s shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. And then they tugged on his pants, unhooking them before Yoochun could protest, but he didn’t want to protest. He wanted to be on the roof, in the dark, in the moment that had been last night, but this moment was harsher, needier, and Yoochun needed something. He needed something that was not planned out for him or required, and the feel of Yamapi’s hands on his skin was intoxicating, forbidden, necessary.

“What are you doing, Yoochun?” Yamapi asked him as his lips and tongue traced a path down Yoochun’s neck.

“Do not ask me that, because then I will start thinking, and I am not thinking and I don’t want to think and—”

Yamapi covered his mouth with lips.

Yoochun’s head was light, spinning; he was moaning, too, he could hear himself, sort of like he was off to the side and someone else was being touched and kissed and divested of clothes. He snapped back to himself with Yamapi’s bare skin pressed against his and he cried out at the chill.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m always cold. Heat me up.”

Yoochun gasped out a yes.

“Do you want it, Yoochun?”

“Yes, please. Please.” A brief thought crossed his mind. Yoochun had no idea what he was asking for, but he didn’t care. Anything Yamapi did to him would feel good.

Cold fingers wrapped around his hard cock. Yoochun cried out as Yamapi started stroking.

“Have you done this before?”

Yoochun swallowed and managed to shake his head.

“This is not an ideal place for this, but I am afraid if we go somewhere else you will try to run away again, and Yoochun, I don’t want you to run away. I want you in my life for the next five hundred years.”

Yamapi reached around Yoochun and into his open locker for towels. They fell to the floor and then Yamapi put his arms around Yoochun and settled him to the floor. He did all of this without breaking contact with Yoochun’s lips.

“Hold me, Yoochun,” Yamapi whispered. “Please, your skin is so warm.”

Yoochun lifted shaking arms around Yamapi’s body. Yamapi lowered his hips, and Yoochun arched up into the contact with a heavy groan. Heat and cold, contrasting, never mixing.

Yamapi moaned, but suddenly pulled away from Yoochun’s lips. He kissed down Yoochun’s neck again, moving away only far enough to continue stroking Yoochun’s cock. His tongued moved to Yoochun’s nipples.

Yoochun was dizzy, so dizzy. Anytime he opened his eyes, the world swirled and concaved. Nothing made sense. He’d never ever been this pleasured, never made these noises, or felt skin so close to his. Never had he sweat while being so incredibly cold.

“Yamapi, please, I can’t … oh, God.” The pleasure turned to pain as it rocked through his body, and he screamed, pulsing come onto his stomach.

Yamapi didn’t even pause, continuing to lick and touch Yoochun’s skin.

“Stop, please,” Yoochun whimpered.

“Why?” Yamapi asked against his skin.

Yoochun could not come up with a reason beyond “just because”, so he stopped, and tried to calm his breathing while his body squirmed from the stimulations.

Yamapi’s mouth was lower on his stomach now, hand still stroking Yoochun’s cock. Yoochun’s hands settled in Yamapi’s hair. His knees bent and he thrust up with a cry when Yamapi licked the tip of his erection. Yamapi settled between his legs. He swirled a finger in the come on Yoochun’s skin in the same pattern as he swirled his tongue over his cock.

“This might hurt,” he said and before Yoochun could ask what, Yamapi’s come-covered finger was buried knuckle deep in his body.

Yoochun cried out, eyes shutting, body protesting as he tried to move away. With unimaginable strength, Yamapi held him down with one hand.

Another burst of pain shot up Yoochun’s body, and then Yamapi’s tongue was back on his cock and his whimpers turned to moans. He still squirmed, but towards Yamapi instead of away. A sudden strike of pleasure had his eyes flying open and his upper body lifting from the floor.

Yamapi chuckled, the vibrations making Yoochun moan even louder.

The next shot of pain was so wrapped in sinful pleasure that Yoochun barely noticed. Yamapi’s name echoed around the room. Yoochun whimpered when Yamapi’s mouth left his body.

Firm hands gripped behind Yoochun’s knees.

“This is definitely going to hurt,” Yamapi whispered.

Yoochun screamed as Yamapi pressed into him. His body arched off the floor, hands trying to find something to grab onto, sliding along the slick floor. So much pain, so much, and then Yamapi kissed his, and there was another nick of pain on his lip. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Yamapi moaned, deep, guttural, and whispered an obscenity.

His thrusts were harder, and Yoochun’s lost his voice crying out, hands finally latching onto Yamapi’s shoulders. Ripping, digging, until his fingers slid through warm liquid that wasn’t sweat. He couldn’t breathe past his whimpers. The world faded from gray to white to black and then focused into sharp clarity when Yamapi shifted inside him.

“Fuck, Yoochun. I need—”

Yamapi’s lips brushed against his neck, once twice and then something sharp snagged on his skin. Yoochun’s breath caught. Teeth, Yamapi’s teeth, and Yoochun wanted them in his skin, bruising him, marking him.

“Bite me,” Yoochun whispered. “Bite me, suck on me, please. Mark me.”

Yamapi stilled all his movements, body pressed flush against Yoochun’s. He held himself up, arms straight. And he sat there, until Yoochun’s breathing calmed and his eyes opened.

And then Yamapi smiled.

Yoochun’s eyes widened in disbelief. Fear, more than he ever knew coursed through him.

Yamapi’s eyes shut with a groan. “God, your fear smells good.” A red tongue licked over a tooth too long to be human.

Yoochun squirmed again, trying to get away, mewling as Yamapi’s mouth twisted in a wicked grin. He leaned down slowly, letting his elbows bend. He started thrusting into Yoochun’s body again, slowly.

“You asked for it, baby.”

And then in a blur, Yamapi’s face was at his neck and pain, more than anything he’d experienced tonight, flooded Yoochun’s brain and body, but his scream was silent. He gripped Yamapi’s hair, trying to pull him away. His eyes rolled back in relief as the pain dulled suddenly. And he could feel it, everything, every touch burned, every suck and Yoochun felt it, like his blood vessels contracted, and then filled, replacing what was flowing down Yamapi’s throat.

Staying attached, Yamapi shifted again, bringing his hands to Yoochun’s hips. He gripped them hard, lifting up and continued pounding into Yoochun’s body.

The dizziness returned, and this time Yoochun knew it was blood loss. A tiny logical part of his brain was analyzing this, analyzing it all, and he blamed the medical classes.

And then suddenly, his thoughts were not his own. Flashes of Yamapi’s life flew through his mind. He watched as four other men, gorgeous men ran across country landscapes, through villages, and castles. Fangs and blood and so much blood and more bites and bodies and skin and blood-red lips and—

_Let go, Yoochun. Let me in._

His life was suddenly there, replacing the sexy imagery with beatings from his father, their disappointment and then on the trip here, more beatings from the master of the ship and the crew. Hurt and despair rushed through him, and he screamed in agony as he felt it all again, so real and so deep.

Yoochun whimpered, trying to close them off, and then a gorgeous face, not Yamapi’s, leaned into his vision and asked Yamapi if he was alright, and there was so much pleasure and love and concern in that face, so much, pleasure.

Pleasure, it was all for pleasure and Yoochun arched, hands sliding against skin, up to Yamapi’s head, holding him in place at his neck. He tried to meet Yamapi’s thrusts into his body, screaming in frustration and need when his movements were stopped.

_More, more, more, more_

A mental chuckle filled his head, and then Yamapi sped up. The images disappearing, Yamapi pulled away from his neck and brought his bloodied mouth to Yoochun’s, kissing him again, and Yoochun didn’t care when those sharp teeth cut his lips and tongue, he swallowed blood and moans and gasps.

“Do you want forever, Yoochun? Do you want it?”

Yoochun would later berate Yamapi for asking him at that particular moment, but at that particular moment, Yoochun wanted everything. Agony, need, pleasure coursed through him as he screamed yes, with his head back, neck arched, and Yamapi latched onto his neck again, fangs digging deeper, blood flowing faster.

Yoochun moaned and cried out with his thrusts.

_Come, Yoochun._

Yoochun screamed as his orgasm ripped from his body. Blackness filled his mind, and he drifted in and out, Yamapi’s bloodied faced above him, grinning, body still moving, and then another sharp pain in his neck, and then another above his heart, and then again on his arm, and another and another, until his body twitched with each new shot of pain.

_Mine._

v-v

Yoochun came to with a groan. Or he thought he groaned. Maybe. His entire body hurt. What the fuck happened?

He tried to remember the last thing he could, but everything was wavy and indistinct and god, his body hurt. His heart ached and pumped faster than it should have. His skin burned.

Voices reached his head.

“God damn it, Yamapi. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Obviously. Fuck.”

Yamapi. He knew that name.

“I’m sorry, Jun, but it’s, shit, I haven’t lost control like that for a long time, and he was so fucking hot and—“

“He’s awake. Feed him before he dies.”

A door slammed.

Yoochun tried to focus on the dark splotch above him.

“Yoochun?”

He groaned.

“I was going to ask how you were feeling, but I better feed you first. Here. Bite.”

Skin pressed against his lips, and without thinking he bit down. Blood flooded his mouth and he gagged on it, before his throat started working and swallowing. It tasted so good. Too good and he drank and drank and drank, until darkness swallowed him again.

v-v

_2 years later_

“Do you hate me?”

Yoochun turned from the window and smiled at Yamapi. “Of course not. Why would I?”

Yamapi came to him for a hug.

It wasn’t the first time they had this conversation. Yoochun knew it wouldn’t be the last time. They stared at the sky as it turned gray.

“I stole the sun from you.”

“And you gave me the moon.”

“I just … I’m really sorry, Yoochun.”

Yoochun lifted his head from his shoulder and placed a very chaste kiss to his lips. He was incredibly aware of his master’s jealous presence just outside the room.

“Don’t be sorry, Pi. I may not have chosen this had you actually explained it to me, but I’m happy. I am.”

“I stole your life,” Yamapi insisted with a pout.

Yoochun smiled. “You gave me forever.”

He pulled Yamapi away from the window, away from the rising sun.

“I wrote a song. Will you listen to it?”

“Of course.”


End file.
